


Morning

by thusspakekate (orphan_account)



Series: love stories for the new age [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thusspakekate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they kissed was on a Sunday. On Sunday morning, to be exact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

The first time they kissed was on a Sunday. On Sunday morning, to be exact.

Harry woke, slightly dazed and disoriented, his head throbbing as a cruel reminder of last night’s drink. There was a warm weight at his side, a slender porcelain doll of a man whose fair hair fanned out across the pillow he was hugging possessively. He had faint freckles on his shoulders and red lines from Harry’s jagged fingernails on his back. His neck was splattered with angry looking bruises of purple and yellow.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, hesitant to wake the sleeping man, but feeling too awkward to face the shameful morning after alone.

Draco stirred, but didn’t wake.

Harry watched him and cast his mind back, searching through his fragmented memories of the previous evening for how they’d come to be here. 

All he could remember was firewhiskey, firewhiskey, and even more firewhiskey. 

And then he remembered Draco, sliding into the seat next to him at the pub. He remembered the feel of Draco’s long fingers creeping up his thigh and the tickle of Draco’s breath against his ear as he whispered wicked things.

Harry remembered a dangerous apparation and tripping over the coffee table in his haste to get Draco into the bedroom. He remembered his fingers flying over buttons, tugging at zips, curling around a hard and leaking cock. He remembered licking and biting and the feel of Draco’s tongue between his legs.

He remembered the explosion that came from deep inside and the mess he made on his own stomach. He remembered the warm, sticky feel of Draco’s release dripping out of him. He remembered heaving chests and panting breaths and hastily whispered confessions.

He remembered everything but kissing.

“Draco,” he whispered again. 

An unhappy crease appeared across Draco’s brow. “Go away,” he grumbled. “Sleeping.”

Harry bent over and pressed his lips against Draco’s, warm and dry from sleep. “Wake up,” he urged.

Grey eyes fluttered open and went momentarily wide. 

Harry kissed him again, and this time Draco’s mouth opened, welcoming the warm invasion of Harry’s tongue: thick and heavy and no doubt bitter tasting. Fingers carded through Harry’s hair, holding him in place as their lips slid together and their tongues entwined.

“Morning,” Harry whispered when he was finally able to pull himself away.

“Morning,” Draco repeated with a languid smile. He pulled the cool cotton covers over his shoulders and rolled onto his side, burying himself deeper into Harry’s bed. “Now go away,” he said with a contented sigh, “I’m sleeping.”


End file.
